


(You are) My sweetest downfall

by NatMatryoshka



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aziraphale and libraries are a wonderful match, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Power Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Self Prompt, and sometimes some smut too, some prompts are AUs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-05 01:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20480963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatMatryoshka/pseuds/NatMatryoshka
Summary: "There is a wonderful intimacy in calling him angel. It's a simple word, but when Aziraphale gives him his sweetest smile in return, he feels loved."*Each letter prompt is a feeling, a promise, a different story.From A to Z.





	1. A-E

**A as Alone **

They really don't mind spending some time alone.

Aziraphale loves to stay in his bookstore, idly reading something with a big cup of tea or cocoa to make him company. Once a book's finished, he takes a mental note to give it to Crowley: his demon has begun reading with a passion and looks forward to start new titles... but he'd never admit it. The month before, he read both romance and adventure novels, his eyes full of genuine excitement.

Crowley, on the other hand, tries to take care of his plants without scaring them (a difficult, but not impossible task). Aziraphale has taught him how to do it: he just needs to_ stay calm_ and keep on watering them, even if their leaves are spotted. _Angel, angel_, he smiles to himself. Maybe the next time he shows up at his bookstore he'll gift him with a plant. Something big and green, with long, elegant green leaves. Or a cactus, perhaps.

They don't mind spending time alone: when Crowley opens the bookstore's door, it's always like they parted just the day before.

**B as Bench**

"So, they... kicked you out?"

There's anger in his voice, Aziraphale notices. Crowley turns his head to face him, fists clenched. "Really?"  
He sighs. "They did. I guess they don't approve my... relationships, so they prefer pretending not to have a son. Sometimes, I wonder if they still think about me. I know, I must forget them because of what they did, but..."

The night's silent and full of stars. _How can you be so cruel with your own son?_ muses Crowley, and suddenly feels the urge to hug Aziraphale, to caress his hair and tell him he's safe, because he'd never hurt him. But his sorrow is too deep, it builds a wall between their souls. 

_Ah, screw it!_

A moment after, he's on his knees, in front of the bench where they both sit. He grabs Aziraphale's hand and puts it against his heart, meeting his gaze. 

"You can live with me, you know. My place's yours... you just have to say yes."

Their favourite spot in the park's quiet, embraced by a soft darkness. A single tear falls from Aziraphale's green eye.  
  


**C as Caress**

When Crowley fell, his wings touched the ground and became dark, tainted. Dirty and sad as him, because no angel could ever wish to fall, and he discovered what rebellion meant in the worst way. 

His wings are still behind his back, but he doesn't like to look at them: his old self's too pitiful to remember. Maybe he never existed at all. Who was Crowley before? Just Crawley, the serpent, or an angel too arrogant to belong to Heaven? 

Yet, Aziraphale loves touching his wings.

The first time he saw them - when they were both in the bathroom, half-naked - he held his breath with devotion, as if he was staring at some beautiful piece of art suddenly appeared before his eyes. Then he caressed him. Caressed his black feathers, gently, cautiously, afraid of making him uncomfortable. 

Crowley breathed slowly, giving in to his touch.

**D as Desire**

_What if I make him dirty?_

Her lips are purple as desire, make you want to be kissed _everywhere._ She has flaming red hair, yellow, serpentine eyes. She's both beautiful and fierce.  
And he's so kind, so friendly. So different from her. 

_What if I take away all of his purity?_

Francis smiles like she's the loveliest flower in the whole garden. He loves to teach Warlock about the wonders surrounding them, from the tiniest insects to the wild geese flying high in the sky. He never seem to lose his temper, even when he proudly refers what his nanny has told him about those creatures.  
Francis, the old, nice gardener. His angel under a new disguise.  
Warlock spends his mornings under his watchful eye, the rest of the day with nanny Ashteroth: he'd probably never admit that, but he really likes the woman. Especially when she throws brief glances to the gardener, and then blushes. 

"You really like him, nanny. Old Francis."  
"Oh, don't say such nonsense, my child. He's just a colleague."

But he isn't, even Warlock knows that.  
Crowley looks at Aziraphale's hand on a rose, his soft voice murmuring words of encouragement. Deep down in her heart, desire roars.

**E as Eternity**

If he'd have to make a list of all the things he loves the most about their lives, he doesn't know where to begin.

First, there are the rainy nights. To fall asleep next to him, even if for a nap, listening to his breath and to the comforting sound of the falling drops. He loves rainy nights, as much as he loves spending rainy, autumnal afternoons in his flashy flowery armchair. And cozy clothes, soft cardigans, sweaters bought during a shopping trip with Crowley, who doesn't wear anything different from black leather and purple silk, but absolutely loves to snuggle him when he wears them. 

The slow dances in his room, after spending hours to clean up the room and set out some new pieces of furniture, listening to the music coming from his record player (only Queen and 70s rock, of course). Sharing a comfortable silence while spending time together in the same room, doing nothing important (Crowley's very interested in social media and often browses them). Cooking together, side to side, bickering in a playful way. Being hugged from behind when they're both half-asleep and morning's still far. To be kissed on the forehead, as he's saying _you're safe, I'm here, you're here. _

The smell of Crowley's shampoo on his pillow. 

Eternity's a long time, thinks Aziraphale, but his list's even longer. He smiles. 


	2. F - J

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my mother language, so I'm sorry for any typo or grammatical error!  
Also note that prompt J's totally random. I REALLY couldn't find a good one with that letter, so I picked the first one coming to my mind and here it is. I really hope it's not total rubbish.

**F as Friendship**

"Just two good friends", they say. They're right: Crowley's a good friend, perhaps his only one on Earth. Meeting him was great, but when they part, his heart longs to stay with him again.

"The best friends you'll ever see", they say again. True, he started to consider Crowley more than a simple friend. The demon's the only creature he really wants to spend his free time on Earth with: they perfectly understand each other, like two people with a very strong bond.

Best friends? Yes, maybe. But, somehow, it's not enough.

"They're so intimate, like lovers", they add, with a tinge of malice. They aim to demean him, Aziraphale don't care: after all, they are right. He truly loves Crowley, with all his heart and mortal body, with his immortal soul. He loves him as the best friend he could ever had, as his lifelong partner, as the only one he would make love to and trust with his life.

As a soulmate.

"They're soulmates", they could add, but Aziraphale don't need to listen to them anymore.

**G as Gardener**

Frances sits in the garden, admiring the sky above her, kissed by the sun.  
Frances pats on Warlock's head, then smiles lovingly at the plants.  
Frances, who sings when she thinks she's alone and blushes, because Ashtoreth has heard her. Frances the gardener, the woman with blonde, curly hair and eyes as calm and green as mountain lakes.

Her lips are soft and kissable, especially when the night falls and they're alone, in a corner of the big kitchen. Warlock loves to steal cookies at midnight, but he often finds a jar of them ready on his nightstand: a small miracle, indeed.  
Frances, whose plump thighs become red with lovebites.

Her Frances, so kind and generous, who's an angel and no one knows that.

Well, no one excepts Ashtoreth.

**H as Here**

"Shh, shh, I'm here. I'm here. Crowley, I'm here."

Crowley wakes up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, terrified by something Aziraphale can't see. As much as he likes to sleep, some nights are not meant to be quiet.

"It's not real, Crowley. You're with me, at home. It's not real..."

His demon shudders under the blanket, eyes filled with silent tears. He's not really crying, but he can't stop the ones running down his cheeks.  
Aziraphale hugs him tightly, murmuring soothing words in his ear, cradling his body to make him feel safe, but it's not easy. He has never seen him so scared before.

"Shh..."

Crowley stays petrified for a moment, shielded by his partner's loving embrace, until his tears finally stop and his breathe becomes steady again.  
Aziraphale kisses his wet lips, lulling him to sleep.

"I'm here. I'm not leaving you."

**I as "I Love you"**

Crowley was too shy to say his "I love you"s out loud, so he hid the words carefully.

They could be found easily in a pile of antique, worn out and really precious books: _just a gift,_ he murmured, hoping his angel would appreciate them. (He did.)

Sometimes, he wrapped them in a paper bag, along with some pastries bought just for him: cinnamon rolls, strawberries cheesecakes, petite chocolate biscuits shaped like wings or stars. Aziraphale opened it, eyes full of wonder. "You're even sweeter", Crowley smirked, and waited to admire the blush on his soft cheeks.  
Some of them were normal questions. "How are you?", "how's you bookstore going?", "can I tempt you to eat something with me?". He already knew the answers.

Yet, the most delicate ones were whispered in the middle of the night, against his neck, when Aziraphale was vulnerable, and naked. Crowley caressed the soft skin behind his back, where his wings once were, holding his breath as he could hurt him, as he was made of clay, or dust.  
"I love you" he heard his voice in the dark, and - for a moment - he almost regretted that confession. Maybe Aziraphale wasn't ready. Maybe he didn't want to be loved by a _demon_ like him. _Someone so pure, too pure for the world and Heaven too, deserves a better partner_, he thought. But still...

Aziraphale heard him. He lifted his eyes, looking at his lips like he'd just revealed the most beautiful secret ever.

"I love you, too" he added.

That was Crowley's turn to blush.

**J as Jeans**

His long, perfect legs wrapped in a pair of black jeans.

_Oh, how I'd like to touch you, to slowly caress your thighs with my fingers, with my lips. To undress you, to worship every single inch of your skin._  
_ Would it be a sin?_

Crowley may seem self-confident, but it's just a mask, Aziraphale has learnt well to look behind it. He's so fragile and handsome, and he doesn't realize it at all.  
Everything he does, every little word he sings or says or shouts, is perfection. He doesn't even has to try: after _too_ many years, his spell has caught him.

_You're my whole world, you know?_

Maybe it's the wine they just drank, maybe it's the way Crowley's talking and moving through the room, but Aziraphale can't take his eyes off of him. The only thing that really matter now are his eyes, his laughter, and that damn pair of black jeans.

_How I'd like to be kissed by you. You'd laugh, then you'd bite my lips. I'd let you do it._  
_ Would this really be a sin?_


	3. K - O

**K as Kiss**

Aziraphale loves to be kissed.

Soft, chaste kisses on the lips. Surprise kisses, when he's on his couch, lost in a book and Crowley just wants to get a bit of his attention. Long, passionate kisses before making love and slow, painfully sweet ones during their lovemaking. Gentle kisses too, morning ones, when he's still a bit drowsy from the brief nap he just took and Crowley looks forward to give him his special greeting kiss.   
His demon is a very good kisser, that's for sure: sometimes, he really wishes to stop time, just to make those small moments last forever. To feel Crowley's hand on his cheek and then their lips brushing softly, light as a feather, as the world around them doesn't exist anymore.   
_Maybe_, he thinks, _I can really stop time when I'm close to him._

To be honest, Aziraphale started their very first kiss: after a dinner at the Ritz, he thanked Crowley with a peck on his cheek. Of course, his demon couldn't just leave him coming home without _properly_ kissing him on the lips. 

**L as Library**

_He always comes here to read and study._

Anthony J. Crowley never spent too much time in his city's library, but sometimes life can take unexpected turns and here he is, ready for another productive day of study. He needs to pass that exam so damn much, his professor was pretty clear about it. He can't allow himself to fail.   
If anything, the company seems good...  
He doesn't know his name, but that young man really seems to quite enjoy that cozy atmosphere, because when Crowley shows up at the library in the morning, he's already there. So good-looking, always speaking in a soft tone. His eyes are green and sweet, his hair pale gold, a ray of sunshine. Sometimes he sat on a couch under the window, sometimes he brings a pile of tomes with him and starts reading them carefully. _An angel,_ smiles Crowley, and the figures on his art book make him think about him.   
"Aziraphale", that's the name written on his notebooks. Crowley likes the sound of it.

On a Monday morning, he finds him right in front of the coffee machines, sipping some cocoa from a ceramic mug he brought from home. White, with a pair of angel wings on the back.  
"Nice mug you got", starts Crowley, feeling a bit awkward. But Aziraphale smiles back at him, and his bravery suddenly comes back.

From Tuesday on, they start meeting on the library to study and have a coffee (or cocoa, or tea, depending on Aziraphale's preferences) together. Then, Aziraphale offers him some help with his study.  
On a Saturday night, the week after Crowley's exam, they go out together for their first date.

**M as Melting**

"It's simple, when you learn how to give in", someone once said. 

Crowley didn't pay much attention to that: giving in to someone was an interesting concept, but far from his everyday life. Living day by day, always searching for something amusing to do, avoiding his _duties_, he had no time for such things.   
To give in to someone, you need someone to trust. Someone you feel attracted to. He never experienced the feeling.   
It's only after years, after entire centuries (they're ageless creatures after all, ten years are just like one human minute) that Crowley learned what felt like melting in someone's arms, as they're the only thing that really matters. To close his eyes and finally let go of his insecurities, because Aziraphale would love every single one of them, without exceptions, as he loves him.   
To feel fragile, ready to fall to pieces and then to be put back together again.

It's easy to melt, when you know how to do it.   
He just needed some time to understand that.

**N as Naked**

There is a strange, beautiful kind of intimacy in holding him tight, naked, against his body.

When he touches his back, he can feel his ribcage under his fingertips. _Crowley, my love,_ he whispers, afraid his demon would hear him (hoping he would). _You're so precious, so kind._ Crowley stretches his muscles and Aziraphale smirks: he heard everything.   
Their hands play together when they make love, fingers entwined, silently fighting and dancing to the music of their breath. Crowley listens to his heartbeat with a hand and a ear placed on his chest, and he feels lucky for being there, with him, while Aziraphale presses a small kiss on his ginger hair, hiding a smile.   
There is a fragile kind of intimacy in being under his body, as his angel would shield him from the world. His wings suddenly open to hug him tightly, gleaming brightly as his soul. And when Aziraphale takes him, gently biting his neck, caressing his cheeks, kissing his lips and trembling, he allows himself to moan. 

They lie awake in the middle of the night, fingers slightly brushing, looking at the moonlight reflections on the ceiling, until Aziraphale lifts his hand to caress the soft skin of his inner thigh. He's gentle. He knows where to touch him, how to give him pleasure, and Crowley soon finds himself begging for more, eyes closed.

There is a wonderful intimacy in calling him_ angel_. It's a simple word, but when Aziraphale gives him his sweetest smile in return, he feels loved. 

**O as Ocean**

_And then I fell, fell down, eyes closed, ears burning with violent sounds, inhuman cries from above. I fell down, wings broken and bloody, to the ground._   
_I fell without a sound._   
_Something acid ate me alive. I felt pain. I felt loneliness like I never felt before. I was..._

Crowley opened his eyes: the sulphur pool he knew too well had disappeared. In its place stood a stretch of something grainy, dusty and light brown, soft under his naked feet.   
_Sand_, he recognized it. And, in front of him, the sea, enormous, majestic.   
Blue.  
His voice.   
Aziraphale sat on the shore, feet in the silver, low water, a joyous smile on his lips. He made a gesture that said /come here/, and Crowley came closer slowly, to take a look around.   
_No land in sight,_ he mused. No people either. _It's a sort of desert place, just for us._  
Aziraphale took his hand, gently kissing his knuckles. A muffled cry startled him, but it was only a seagull, flying in circles above their heads, between thin strands of clouds.   
Crowley sat next to him, on the soft ground. The acid was gone, his wings weren't even hurt: it was like he had never fallen. When he looked at his body, he saw the pure white tunic he wore in Heaven.

Aziraphale looked at him, rays of sunshine shining brightly on his soft, golden hair.  
"Don't be afraid, my dear. I created this dream to make you feel safe."

When he opened his eyes again, the ocean has disappeared. Aziraphale played with his hair carefully, lovingly, as he always did. 

**Author's Note:**

> I started this group of short stories as a simple exercise to write something in English, but soon I realized I needed to create more about my lovely Ineffable Husbands. They're so important to me, their bond speaks directly to my soul in a way I never thought possible. I hope you'll like these stories, as I enjoyed writing them!  
Thanks to my Crowley Ailisea, as always, who encourages me to write in every way. You're the best, bae.
> 
> (If you like to reblog/like/comment my stories on Tumblr too, you can find me @ lion-hearted-wolf!  
And if you're inspired by what I wrote, feel absolutely free to tell me, and to tag me on your fanarts/cosplay pics/aesthetics/anything! I'd be happy to share them!)


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